September’s over. So what? Big deal - every month ends somehow. But that’s the point: September is not an “every” or “any” month. It’s The Velvet Season, which to me is the most beautiful time of the year.
...You wait for it the whole year long. Half of the preceding months you cherish the memories of the past September and another half you are longing for the September to come. Remember that movie – “Come September” starring Gina Lollobrigida and Rock Hudson? Beautiful, isn’t it? And, oh, how about all those popular songs devoted to this particular month? They are indeed very special, so incredibly lovely, but always with a tinge of sadness – yes, the most gorgeous time of the year soon will be over… The greatest of them all, of course, is Kurt Weil–Maxwell Anderson’s masterpiece “September Song”: “Oh, it’s a long, long time / From May to December/ But the days grow short/ When you reach September…” Something going deep inside of me every time I hear the most haunting Tony Bennett’s ballad “Maybe September”: “Maybe September/ I’ll love again /…/..The taller trees/The sweeter love/ The bluer morning skies above/ And maybe come September/ I’ll share those wonders with my love…”
In 1980s I did indeed “share those wonders” with a number of my dearest friends. Every September they all used to be flocking down - from Moscow, from Leningrad, from Tbilisi, from Kiev and other places - to the most beautiful spot of the globe called Pitsunda.
I don’t want to boast, but in my lifetime I was lucky to visit many famous sea resorts like Côte d’Azur in France, Costa del Sol in Spain, other renowned Mediterranean beaches in Italy, Greece, Cyprus and Israel; I tried the waters of Indian Ocean in India, Ceylon and Indonesia; besides I was born and raised right on the Baltic Sea, and there are number of delightful beach towns there – in Russia, Poland, Latvia and Germany. More so, all in all, for about 15 years I lived in the USA – all the time either on Atlantic or Pacific coasts - and never missed an opportunity to plunge into the waters of either Long Island, or Cape Code, or San Diego, or Miami… Why am I saying all this? Because now, I believe, you can completely trust my judgment on this subject. And I’m telling you: if they ask me where is that just ONE place where I’d love to spend my annual leave, without any hesitation I would give up all those wonderful seashore locations for that tiny piece of paradise on the Abkhasian coast of Black Sea - Pitsunda… I’ll spell it for you, Americans, to remember: “Pee-tsoon-dah”. Those sounds are music to my ears. And not to mine alone – all my friends loved it. We might not have seen each other for the rest of the year. But on the very first days of September we all had to be there: the Russians - me and Alex from Leningrad, Alexei and Victor from Moscow, the Georgians - Ilya and Zurab from Tbilisi… I cannot list all of them. Our gracious Abkhasian hosts Rem and Sergey had arranged well advance the accommodations for us - and the great fun was beginning!
…It was a kind of ritualistic. I cannot find the proper words to describe the quality of the water of the Black Sea there; it’s beyond believe. Naturally, first, we all rush to the sea - to wash off all cares and worries of the passed months with that crystal clear, warm and soothing water of the color of the finest sapphire or emerald. We are all so glad to see each other again that we don’t give enough attention to the incredible beauty of the nature around us. And it’s unpardonable, it’s almost sinful; since nowhere else one can find the combination of the subtropical flower plants and the relic grove of the long-needled Italian pine-trees, the celebrated grove that actually creates that one and only “Pitzunda Air”. Yes, I sure love that fêted L’Air de Paris. But here it’s totally different. Just like with the finest perfumes – another great fragrance that is yours and yours alone.
We’ll give it a full credit later, in the evening, by going to the most unusual open air cafeteria called “Stumps”. The stubs of the cut out pine-trees of different height and diameters serve here as round tables and chairs for the customers. That’s the place where they make the best coffee in the world, Turkish style. Its aroma could be the only competitor to that incredible scent of L’Air de Pitsunda I told you before. It would beat “Starbucks” or any other American coffee places by a mile. I wonder, how come that America which managed to produce so many fine things cannot make just one decent cup of a really good coffee? Every morning Berlin and Paris are filled with that fantastic, marvelous aroma of the freshly brewed coffee. But both in New York or Los Angeles (or Moscow and St-Petersburg, for that matter) they serve, as we say in Russian - “the coffee from the bucket”… The only difference is that in Russia it’s much more expensive than in America. In short, you wanna have a good coffee? – Go to the “Stumps”. My only hope that it’s still there - after all those troubled times of wars and destructions.
What else do I remember of my Pitsunda vacations?
An overwhelming feeling of friendship, joy and excitement. We were coming there from different parts of country, from different backgrounds, even from different cultures. But we all wanted to contribute something to please our friends, to make our staying there most enjoyable and unforgettable. The Abkhasians “provided” for us the perfect weather and absolutely beautiful environment. The Georgians were always especially active in creating the general atmosphere of fun and games: their jokes and frolicking made us all bend in half with laughter. And – that Georgian cuisine, oh, my goodness! Chinese food – supposedly the best the world over – cannot hold a candle for those Georgian delicacies. I’ll never forget those nights in the local Georgian restaurant called “Patskha”. I couldn’t quite get it: what was the best part of it – the vine, the food or just that jovial, friendly atmosphere around the table? One thing or the other, or better yet the combination of all three of them, made us all absolutely happy and bursting with life…
Ilya and I were fully “responsible” for providing the best possible music. Funny, but in a way it was an indirect American contribution to the joys of our Velvet Season. When we “occupied” the open upper terrace of the “Parus” [“Sails”] café overlooking the beach deserted at night the holidaying people were congregating from miles away just to listen to it. Where else in the 80s you could hear “The Manhattan Transfer” and Count Basie Orchestra with Mills Brothers singing? Or, how one could get an opportunity to enjoy those velvet voices of Peggy Lee or Mel Tormé caressing the exquisite lyrics of those ballads, which sometimes were quite appropriate to the season, like “September in the Rain”: “…The Sun went down/ Just like a dying amber/ That September/ In the rain…”.
Fortunately for us, there was usually no more than couple of rainy days during the whole staying period. The rest of the month the sun was always shining on us - in every sense of that word, including the time for “the men’s favorite sport” which is – you’ve guessed it - the “girls-watching”… Oh, those Pitsunda girls parading the whole day along the sea boardwalk! I’ll tell you - it was truly a sight to behold. The girls of the Copacabana beach in Brasil are supposed to be the loveliest of them all. But, I think, it’s only because they were glorified by the genius of Antonio Carlos Jobim who gave so many greatest musical gifts to the world including his legendary “Garota de Ipanema”. Remember that bossa-nova beat? – “…Moça do corpo dourado / Do sol de lpanema/ O seu balançado/ É mais que um poema/ É a coisa mais linda/ Que eu já vi passar...” Change just one word in those Portuguese lyrics of Vinicius de Moraes, put “…the sun of Pitsunda” instead of “the sun of Ipanema” and you can easily visualize those “swaying golden bodies, more beautiful than any poem and lovelier than I ever saw passing…” For sure in Brasil they have a much better composer, but our Pitsunda girls are second to none.
Those glorious golden days – where they have all gone? Why now in association with the word “Abkhasia” we hear mostly: “terrorist attacks”, “invasion”, “bombing and destructions”, “homeless refugees”, “ruined villages”, “destroyed economy” and the most frightening of them all - the “threat of a new war with Georgia”? They say that little by little this beautiful tiny country of Abkhasia and my beloved Pitsunda are slowly coming back to where they used to be. I hope that with recently acquired status of the independent statehood this process will speed up. And there would come a day when another multinational group of young men, including perhaps Americans also, would come to fully enjoy – just like we used to do - yet another Velvet Season in Pitsunda, that real little piece of Paradise on Earth.
One great man had once prophetically said: “I have a dream…” Don’t we all? I do, for sure. I have a dream that one truly wonderful day the responsible and reasonable leaders (that, by definition, automatically excludes Mr. Saakashvili) of Abkhasia, S.Ossetia, Georgia, Russia and America will come to their senses and decide once and for all to restore peace and quiet in this troubled region, thus making it possible again not only for all my friends, but to all people enjoy the beauty and serenity of this God Blessed land. And there’s no better spot for such an impressive and eventful summit than Pitsunda itself. I myself would gladly volunteer to provide the proper musical background for such an event. As “September Song” goes: “These golden days I’ll spend with you…”
God willing…
